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Melted were these sea-towers, when the mighty One, Lord of Heaven's realm, smote with holy hand These heroes strong as pines, that people proud.... The yawning sea was mad, Up it drew, down swirled; dread stood about them, Forth welled the sea-wounds. On those war-troops fell, As from the heaven high, that handiwork of God. And thus were drowned the doughtiest of Egypt, Pharaoh with his folk.
I need not describe our mutual pleasure at meeting, which was more than shared by my wife, who had often made me detail to her the exploits of my comrades. I inquired for Chane. The Irishman, at the breaking up of the "war-troops", had entered one of the old regiments, and was at this time, as Lincoln expressed it, "the first sargint of a kump'ny."
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